The Seventh Son
Ares woke with a start and jumped to his feet in a panic. He patted down his torso, but there was no wound to be found. Just some strange clothes he had never seen before that seemed to fit him perfectly. He lifted his gaze and looked around at the high walls and ceilings. The decor and sheer size of the room were worthy of any God. His gaze flowed along the engraved walls, following the patterns from one side to other. They depicted the fall of the gods and the end of days. A grotesque scene for a bedroom to be sure.
Ares walked around the room trying to find something, anything, that might explain to him exactly what was going on. His hands brushed over a cherry oak door, engraved with cherry blossoms and grasped the crystal door handles opening them wide. Inside was a very deep closet lined with the finest of clothes. He walked inside and examined the choices before him, he would need clothes and there were some here that would surely fit him. After a few minutes of leafing through shirts, pants, and shoes he finely settled on a dark crimson silk shirt, the color of freshly spilt blood, a pair of fine black cotton dress pants, and shoes black as the abyss itself that were shined to perfection.
Turning around he saw a mirror and froze. He didn't recognize the face that started back at him. The hair was the same nightmare black, the pale skin, even some of the facial features were very similar to his own, and the body, though slightly less muscled and more slender, were very close to his own as well. But the person staring back at him was no god, it was the face of a mortal. Though the eyes of this particular mortal were most unnerving, a blue so pale that Death himself would be jealous.
Ares still wasn't sure what was going exactly, but it seemed he had been given a second chance at life, but how did it happen and why this mortal? Those were questions he wanted answers to, and would find those answers on his own time and in his own way. First things first, he needed to know more about this mortal and the life he had lived. Judging by what he had seen so far he couldn't imagine it was a bad life.
He got dressed and left the other clothes piled nearly in the corner of the closet. He brushed himself down looking into the mirror. He almost felt half himself again, almost. Exiting the closet and closing the doors behind him, Ares continued making his way around the room and stopped at a bedside desk to rummage through the drawers.
He found a thick chain of silver, a timepiece of the same material, a long dagger engraved with runes with a handle of dragonbone and black leather sheath attached to a belt to hold it in. Ares fastened the belt around his waist and sheathed the dagger. The Chain clasped easily around his neck and hung low over his shirt, sparking in the light of the rising sun through the open windows. The timepiece was round in shape and fastened to a long silver chain the clasped to his belt and fit easily in the inside pocket of his shirt. He unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt and placed the chain inside of it.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
The banging was coming from a large set of double doors opposite of him across the room. The doors burst open and in walked a middle aged man adorned head to toe in the finest of materials, all dyed black and crimson. Chains of gold, silver, and copper adorned his neck, with rings bearing rubies covered his fingers. He was obviously a mortal Lord of some kind, and by his body language, he appeared aggravated.
"Nobaru!," roared Lord Verchiel Blackfyre! "You are late, as always! Seventh son indeed, I told you to be ready and downstairs by sun up, we are entertaining the Royal family and I will not have you turning this into a disaster and bringing shame upon the name Blackfyre! Do you understand me boy?!"
Ares had never felt so disrespected. He wiped the spittle off of his face left by the roaring man in front of him. He assumed this must be the mortals father, what a disgusting way to treat your kith and kin. And a seventh son? This couldn't be worse for him. He very calmly brushed himself off followed by a lightning quick back hand across the man's face, knocking him to the floor. Ares crouched and leaned in close to the Lord of Blackfyre and whispered.
"If you ever disrespect me again Lord Blackfyre, I will kill you where you stand, do you understand?," he asked in a cold flat tone.
Lord Verchiel could only nod, visibly shaken by the encounter. With a smug smile Ares stood up and ran his hand through his hair. A seventh son, huh? How unlucky can one God get? Well, let's change this boys luck. This will be a brand new life with a brand new start, he mused to himself as strolled out of the room and down the hall, leaving the king lying on the floor of the bedroom behind him.